It Was Always Her
by Socrates7727
Summary: After Ziva went out to get drunk and slept with a random guy, Tony was pissed. So pissed, in fact, that he goes to the nearest bar after work and fully intends to drown himself in his sorrows. Until McGee hunts him down and lets him in a little secret. Even if nothing happens, Ziva deserves to know, doesn't she? After all, it was always her. Tiva! One-shot, no lemons, fluff!


AN I don't own NCIS or any of its characters. Tiva fluff! One-shot.

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"Tony, you idiot." Fuck McGeek, what did he know? Probably was still half virgin… Besides, he probably thought he was still sulking from getting bitched out by Gibbs.

"What. You come here to insult me?" McGee ordered a scotch on the rocks and took his glass away. Who the hell did he think he was?! Tony had paid for that drink and all the others before it and damn him if he wasn't going to get drunk off his ass tonight, McJerk or no McJerk.

"You're pissed because she slept with some guy when she was drunk? Tony, you're the one who rescued her. You're the one she came back from Israeli for. Do you really think a one night stand overshadows that?" Tony just sulked. So maybe McNosy did know what was bothering him, but what did he care? It was after hours. Why couldn't he just leave it like Gibbs and Abby did?

"Besides, you can't really blame her. She's been trying to lose her mind and forget since she got back." Yeah, no shit McSherlock. He, of all people, knew the hell they'd put her through and he'd tried to be there for her but she hadn't wanted him to. No, instead she wanted some preschool teacher named Michael. He would take all her problems away, for sure.

"And she had to do it with Hottie McDreamboat from the bar on second?"

"It wasn't like you were going to." Tony froze. The rum churned in his stomach and he stared at the little tech ninja sitting beside him. It wasn't like he was going to? What he hell did that mean?

"What was that McGoo?" McGee was frozen, too, and looking more and more like he shouldn't have said anything in the first place. He turned back to his phone, fiddling like he was texting someone. He wasn't, though.

"Timothy." McGee sighed. He'd never been one for keeping secrets but, now that Tony had caught him and could call him on it, he was toast. Burnt toast.

"Okay, but you didn't hear it from me. Abby will kill me for this…"

" _I'll_ kill you if you don't start talking." McGee looked like he was going to pee himself.

"Ziva slept with that guy because… Well, it wasn't like you made yourself available, talking about Stacy all day like she's your girlfriend or something. I'm just saying I don't blame her is all." But no way in hell was McGee getting off that easily, Tony settled his hand around the man's scotch and gave him a smile. It was fake sweetness, though, and McGee began to sweat.

"Timothy, why would it matter if I talked about Stacy? She's got McDreamboat over there, what does she care?" McGee forcefully took his drink back, and downed the whole thing. He looked like he really needed the confidence boost. But, he took a deep breath.

"You didn't hear it from me…" Yes, that had been established already. "Tony, you're the one… You saved her, she came back for you, you're the one Gibbs sent for her, you're the only one she would talk to after she got back… It's always been you. You're everything to her. And you can't see it, so you rub other women in her face like Stacy-who, by the way, I did some digging and she's not even real, is she? But you keep doing that and it's no wonder she ran drunk into the arms of another man. You pretty told her she didn't have another option." McGeek got that look on his face. Like he'd finally said his peace and knew that he was right.

"Don't be ridiculous," But McGee was already fixing him with a glare. "Ziva and I are just friends." But even as he said it, he felt how fake it was in his mouth. They'd never been just friends. Always partners, always flirty, always colleagues, always something more, but never just friends. McGee stood with a shrug.

"Whatever you say, just make sure she knows that." McGee left. Tony felt like a bomb had just been placed in his lap and, if he moved the wrong way, he'd have to dive into the bathtub to avoid getting blown up. He was too old for this shit. Maybe he was only thirty two, but he was definitely too old for this shit.

"Fuck him." The bartender refilled his glass with a little laugh.

"Ziva's a him? Sounds like you should, then." Tony didn't drink that glass. They were friends. But, even if they were friends, he didn't want her to be hurting and he knew that she was. The least he could do was talk to her, right? And he was slightly drunk so nothing could go wrong with that.

He caught a cab, only to realize he had no idea where she lived. Did she even have a place? Or was her nomadic nature keeping her in a motel room somewhere on the shady side of town? He didn't know, but the cab driver was waiting for an address and the meter was running.

"The bar on second." A nod, and then they were off. He could have walked, honestly, but he'd already gotten into the car and he wasn't sober so he figured it couldn't hurt. Maybe she'd be there, without Michael the preschool teacher with dreamy eyes? Well, he decided in the cab, if she wasn't there it would be a sign. To butt out of her life and let her do whatever, and whoever, she wanted. But, if she was… Then he would talk, no matter how much he didn't want to.

When he stepped into the bar, he thought, for a second, he might be safe. But that was too easy. Instead, he caught sight of the Israeli sitting on one of the barstools-alone-and drinking something red. The hell kind of alcohol was red? She was here, though, and he'd made a deal with fate so he walked up and took the seat beside her.

"Mind if I join you?" She glared at him, already full of fire before he even said anything. That was a good sign, right?

"I'm not in the mood, Tony." But she looked so… exposed? Like a part of her was torn open and left raw for the world to see, leaving her less confident than usual. So he compensated.

"I talked to McGee." She didn't get it immediately, though, just took another swig of whatever the hell was in that glass and scowled at her hands.

"Good for you." He didn't order another drink, even though he considered it. Anymore alcohol would make judgement questionable at best and he wanted to remember this conversation, for better or for worse.

"About you, Zi." That made her eyes flick up. "He said you like me." She looked like she was going to slaughter McGee the next time she laid eyes on him. For a second, Tony was actually scared of her. Not in the teasing, playful way she always threatened him but in a real, visceral way that made him second guess what he was doing. But it was Ziva. She wouldn't hurt him, right…?

"Of course I like you. If I didn't, you would be dead." He wasn't going to let her slip out of it like that, though. If it wasn't true, then he would back off in a heartbeat but she wasn't just going to deflect. Not when it felt like years had been building up to this moment. Not when he was terrified to say the wrong thing. Not when he was extending the olive branch.

"Like me as in a crush, Zi, or like love." She stared at him. Her eyes were deep and mesmerizing but there was an edge there that Tony immediately didn't like. It made her look dangerous and angry, even when he could sense she wasn't. Had she never given him that look before, or had he merely never noticed that sharpness hidden in the soft brown?

"Don't be ridiculous, Tony." Her tone gave it away the second she spoke. She was emotional, and anxious, but that almost made him smile because it meant McGee was right. She.. liked him? She liked him.

"That's a shame," he mused, sliding his arm on the bar to touch hers. "Because I was going to say I felt the same way." She stared. The little bit of moisture in her eyes, the little catch in her breath, and the little tremor in her hands. He reached out to cover her hand, if only to still it. Her silence made him want to curl up inside himself and make a joke, tell her it was never serious, but he made himself sit there. He owed it to her to sit there. She deserved to know it was true and not have it ripped out from under her just because he couldn't suck it up and deal with waiting for a response. So, he waited.

"You're serious." It wasn't a question, but he nodded. To soothe his own anxiety as it boiled in his gut, he ran his thumb over her knuckles. They were slightly scabbed over. Had she fought someone recently? But she took a long, slow deep breath and stared at their hands. They'd never had even this kind of contact, he realized, and yet it felt so natural… like they'd never done anything else.

"You aren't joking." He squeezed her hand, even if it made her tense at first.

"No, I'm not joking." Suddenly, he felt a strange pressure on his hand and he went to look but there was nothing. She was squeezing his hand, he realized. Was that an answer?

"It's not ridiculous." He nodded, still stroking her knuckles even as she watched him. The motion of his thumb over her skin, dipping and rising with each knuckle, was mesmerizing to both of them. How had they never done this?

"No, it's not ridiculous." She just nodded. They were at a loss, it seemed, and just sat there watching his thumb move back and forth.

"Hey, just go home if you aren't gonna order more, lovebirds." Tony jolted, even as the bartender moved away from them, and Ziva tensed. He had to do something… He couldn't just let whatever was happening here just disappear and never get talked about again. They had a habit of doing that.

"You want to come over to my place, Zi?" She nodded. It wasn't words, but he didn't really care, because she'd just agreed to go back to his place with him. Ziva, of all people. But, she let him take her hand and lead her out of the bar to a cab. He opened the door for her, and she smiled but didn't let go of his hand. Even when they sat in the back of the cab as it drove, she didn't let go of his hand-she seemed incapable of it. When he moved to pay the driver, she clung to it. The desperation in her face and fear in the way she grabbed him may have gone unspoken, but not unnoticed. He was more careful, from then on. Even when they got inside his apartment, he didn't let go and she didn't ask him to.

"Nice place," she mumbled. "It's very… you." Somehow, she made that sound like both a good thing and a bad thing. She had a way of doing that.

"Thank you. You want to watch a movie?" She nodded. They picked a movie-he picked, really, and she just didn't protest-and settled on the couch still holding hands as it started. But they didn't even get halfway through the previews before she turned to him.

"Tony." He put his arm around her quickly, hoping that she wouldn't notice he let go of her hand as he did, but she didn't seem upset. Instead, her eyes only softened at the gesture. She relaxed a little, scooting to nestle in against his side.

"Tony." Her tone was lower, less fearful. He turned to met her eyes again, expecting that same softness in her face, but he didn't get the chance to look. Lips pressed against his. She was kissing him. Holy shit she was kissing him! He recovered quickly and tangled a hand in her hair to pull her closer, guiding her the way he'd done a hundred times. But with her it was different.

She tasted like sugar, like grenadine and just the slightest hint of alcohol. He loved it either way, though, because it was _her_. He hadn't realized over all those years of flirting and little suggestive innuendos how badly he wanted to do this, to hold her in his hand and feel her lips respond to his every movement. They fit together like puzzle pieces, no matter how fast or hot the kiss got. Her hands rested on his chest and, wait, when had they moved to laying down? But it didn't matter, she fit in his arms against his chest like she belonged there and he never wanted to let her go.

"Tony." She pressed their foreheads together, sharing their breath, but he stopped at her voice. "Tony, you are drunk. We shouldn't-"

"Zi, we don't have to have sex." Just saying it seemed to shock her because it took her a second to respond. When she did, her entire face fell.

"Isn't that why you brought me here?" Then, it was his turn to frown. He reached up and caught her cheek in his hand, running his thumb beneath her eye for a moment. She sighed, and he did it again. He got the feeling she wasn't used to tenderness… He wanted to change that. But that didn't change the fact that she'd basically just accused him of only wanting her for sex.

"Zi, I'm not looking for a hookup. Are you?" It was ridiculous, given she was the one that said they shouldn't have sex, but he had to ask. He had to know, now that the doubt was in his veins.

"No, I… I just thought…" But she stopped when he ran his thumb under her eyes again, tracing the bags there. She'd been having nightmares, probably. He wasn't shocked, but he was saddened by it-she didn't deserve nightmares. Not after the shit she'd been through.

"You haven't been sleeping much, have you?" She looked like he'd just accused her of murder. Well, no, not murder. She wouldn't have reacted to an accusation of murder because it likely wasn't the first time or the last but maybe like she'd kicked a puppy? Regardless, she looked like he'd just exposed her darkest secret.

"No, I've tried. It's just hard after everything." He nodded, though. He understood, even if she didn't think he would. His hand tightened on her jaw and he pulled her down to rest her head on his chest, just over his heart. She slumped into him instantly.

"It's okay, Zi. I get it, I've got you. You're safe here, just close your eyes and breathe, okay? I'll be right here until you wake up." She nodded, but it was slowed now and a little shallower. He liked that, actually. It panged in his chest when her breathing evened out and he heard a slight snore because he realized that she trusted him. Not with her life-he knew that-and not with her secrets. But she trusted him to see her like this, at her most vulnerable, and protect her from the nightmares.

"Remind me to thank McGee," he whispered, even though she was asleep. He tangled a hand in her hair to gently hold the back of her neck, and she nuzzled closer at the touch. It made him smile. Slowly, he kissed her forehead once he was sure she was asleep. She stirred, but settled with a little sigh. She trusted him. That made him want to cry and hold her close at the same time-though he settled for just the latter. She trusted him, like this. Really, truly trusted him.

"I love you, Ziva David." Thank god she was asleep, he would have never said that to her face, but he felt better for saying it. It'd been weighing on his chest for longer than he ever realized. He did love her, he knew that now. That was the little twinge in his chest when she snapped at him, that was the urge to reach out whenever she cried. It was the desire just to hold her, comfort her, like this. It was the pain at her nightmares, and the shock at realizing it was almost as bad as his own. It was _her_.

It had always been her.

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